CHAPTER ONE

The ashes of his family hadn’t even spread to the four winds before the scavengers came for him.

“Young master, it’s time.”

Ryland looked up at the old manservant with the weary, worried eyes and nodded. Then he rose from the bed in his old room and followed the aging man out into the stone corridor and down the hallway.

He was numb inside, but his brain still ticked off the familiar parts of Red Feather Keep- the turns which lead to the kitchen and the library, the low bent doorframe his elder brother would always bang his head on, the nook where he’d hidden as a child when his father was angry. He hadn’t lived here in almost ten summers, and yet it was still the familiar place of his childhood that had memories in every crack and corner.

Then they reached the staircase that led down to the great hall.

He paused, knowing what was coming.

Took a breath.

And then descended.

The keep’s great hall had been built by Ryland’s great-grandfather, Jerrik Hauke, to impress all the clients who would enter this place. It was a broad room built of ancient oak beams and granite stone walls that had turned visitors into gasping fish as they stared around it, shocked by what they saw. On the walls were tapestries with tales of ancient deeds done by the members of the family that Ryland had memorized by the time he was three. And, at the head of the hall was a giant plaque inscribed with golden letters which read “To stand where others fail” - the company’s motto.

Under that golden plaque was the raised head table where his father held court, and from it three other long tables extended out like claws. The head table was occupied by three rough looking men and a woman, sitting to either side of an empty seat. The long tables were crowded with more men and women, and around the edges of the hall others stood talking.

When Ryland entered, a hush fell over the hall, and then as he walked to the empty seat at the head table - his father’s former seat - a torrent of whispered words filled the large echoing room. Ryland’s tired brain caught snatches of them…

“Poor lad.”

“Well that seals it- look at him.”

“Just wait, let him speak.”

“A stiff breeze could take that one.”

“That’s Kanall’s boy? You sure?”

That last one made Ryland smile inwardly. There were many who asked that question when they saw the youngest child of Kanall Hauke - seventh child, and fourth to see his tenth birthday. Not that anyone expected him to. He’d been born with a slender, weak frame, and looked nothing like the towering warriors the Hauke clan produced generation after generation. The only trait he shared with them was his bright, red hair and sky blue eyes, but beyond that Ryland would never be mistaken for a member of the mighty Hauke family.

Even now at seventeen summers, Ryland was a young man with only average height and a pale complexion. He wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t especially handsome either- although his quick wit and friendly smile had made him popular with the girls at the Imperial Academy. Not that he’d cared much for girls, with his interests laying elsewhere in his studies.

Studies that had come to an abrupt halt less than a week before with the arrival of a message.

“Return home immediately. Your father has fallen.”

He had stared at the words, stuck on the phrase “fallen.” What did that ambiguous word have to do with his father? Fallen down stairs? Fallen ill? Fallen...on the battlefield?

As it turned out, that was exactly what it meant.

Not just his father, but his older brothers and sister as well.

All of them lost while escorting an imperial official to a new posting.

With his mother having passed in the famine, this left only one heir to the family name.

So, Ryland Hauke sat down in his father’s cold seat, and faced the assembled membership of the Crimson Hawk Banner Company - one of the greatest mercenary bands in the entirety of the Glacian Empire.

Next to him, the table was struck with three sharp raps, and a voice rang out.

“Silence!” Yelled Gar Coombs, his father’s Master of Battle.

This brought the whispering to a quick end. Although he was aging, the powerful Coombs with his booming voice and scarred face of children’s nightmares was still a force few would dare challenge.

Seeing the others giving him the due respect, the mighty Coombs nodded accordingly and took a deep breath before beginning. “We be here,” Coombs announced. “Today to decide the future of this company. Kanall is gone, and with him Radley, Darrel, and Elsbeth - four of the bravest who ever walked the land, and the heart and soul of this company. I said my piece about them at the burning, and I have nothing more to say except this - they would have wanted us to continue on without them and do our duty. They may be gone, but their spirit is still with us, and their blood still walks with Ryland. I hope you all vote today to continue our mission and keep the faith with those who brought us together, and for those who need us.”

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These words made many heads shake in approval, but Ryland noted that an equal or greater number seemed stone-faced.

As Coombs sat down, the company’s Master of Order, Delmar Swailes, rose up. He was a well-dressed man approaching middle age who always made Ryland’s nose wrinkle with the smell of the strong perfumes he wore. He had long, dark hair, and a handsome face that spoke of a good life, not one in the field like Coombs had lived.

“Thank you, Gar. You are right, the best of us have passed, and those who remain must...go on.

This company was founded on strength and bravery by people who were willing to go into the field and fought alongside their armsmen as brothers and sisters. By people who had the knowledge, the ability, and the confidence to lead others into battle and stand shoulder to shoulder against the fiercest of foes. No others could lead this company like they did, with the firm hands it requires and the skills needed to control a panicked crowd in the face of dark beasts that walk on four legs or two. We were blessed by the gods to have them, and the gods are stronger to have them standing beside them on the fields of ever spring.”

Ryland heard Coombs give a low growl beside him as Delmar spoke, and mutter something obscene under his breath. Little wonder, because everything that Delmar said had both praised Ryland’s fallen father and siblings and at the same time held Ryland up in comparison before them. He had damned Ryland as surely as he had praised the fallen.

“We are here today to make an important decision,” Delmar continued. “And, whatever the membership decides will be what we abide by - we have stood together in all things, and will continue to go as the membership wills. So, in that spirit, I open the floor to those who want to speak their piece before the vote is taken.”

A man near the front stood up, “If we choose to continue, who will lead us?”

“Our master’s son, of course.” Delmar answered, nodding towards Ryland.

Another man- “What experience does the boy have in leading men?”

Coombs and Delmar both looked awkwardly at Ryland.

“None,” said Ryland quietly, taking it upon himself to answer. “I have… none.”

Murmurs moved through the crowd, and faces frowned.

“Can we vote for another leader, until the boy is...ready?” Asked a woman.

“Of course,” Coombs answered, suddenly brightening. “Delmar or I could take charge until Ryland feels confident to stand for his father.”

This brought more of a response, with voices for and against the idea speaking loudly.

Next to Ryland, Coombs nodded optimistically.

But even in his haze, Ryland shook his head. Despite this moment of hope, the outcome had already been decided.

“What happens if we vote to disband?” Asked the second man who had spoken.

There it is, thought Ryland.

Delmar paused as if to give the question serious thought. “If we disband, the company belongings will be sold and all members paid in full. If any remains, it will be divided as a bonus of thanks to all who stood for this company, with extra given based on age and sacrifice.”

Ryland saw Coomb’s hands tighten as the crowd began to talk animatedly.

On the other side of him, a small smile appeared on the face of Delmar Swailes.

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The old Master of Battle found Ryland atop one of the keep’s battlements looking out across the early summer valley. In the green fields beyond, farmers worked and animals tended to their young.

“They voted to disband,” Ryland said, not even looking at the older man or his grave expression. After a few more rounds of questions, the young man had excused himself and left before the final vote to retreat here to one of his favorite spots of youth.

“I’m sorry, lad. I failed you, and your family.”

Ryland shook his head. “No, Uncle Gar, it’s fine. It wasn’t your fault. Just like those sheep, people must be true to their nature. I can’t even lift a sword right- why would they choose me over a full bag of coins? It was...the only choice.”

The big man punched the oak support next to him, causing it to reverberate. “Damn that Swailes to burn!”

Ryland considered it for a moment of silence. “Was there a reason he wanted my family’s company disbanded?”

“I don’t know,” Coombs admitted. “But, before he left, your father told me watch Swailes. So, he knew something stank in that man’s pit.”

“I see…” Ryland nodded. “So, what will become of you now, Uncle? Will you sign on with another company?”

Gar Coombs let his shoulders sink, “I...No. It’s time for me to retire. I can’t serve another master after your father, and my wife wants me home to help with her business. I’m...sorry, young master.”

Ryland nodded. “I understand. Your children need you - go to them.”

After a pause, Coombs added, “Lad, this place belongs to the company, and will also be sold...”

For the first time, Ryland gave a small smile. “I’m sure the Master of Order already has a buyer waiting. Will I get a share?”

Coombs shook his head, and then produced a long and thin wooden case from inside his pocket and held it out to Ryland. “The membership voted to give you the Writ of Company instead of your family share. I fetched it and the family seal before Swailes tried some funny business. It isn’t much, but I think you can sell it.”

A Writ of Company was the Imperial document that served as the foundation of a Banner Company, and gave the group the authority to operate inside the Glacian Empire. It was what separated a Banner Company from a normal band of mercenaries or adventurers, and gave them status in trade for an oath of loyalty to the Emperor. While it was very valuable, as it was given by the Emperor to the Banner Company’s founder, it could only be transferred outside the founder’s family by imperial decree or the family’s consent.

“They left me the one thing they couldn’t use. How kind.” Ryland said, taking the case which contained the writ. He didn’t open it, but held it in both open hands, looking at it sadly.

“Lad, please come to stay with me and my family. We might not be blood, but after you were born I held you before your own father did, and you’re as much a son to me as any of my own. My wife’s business can use someone who knows numbers and can write, and we can offer you a fair wage until you can sell that writ.”

But Ryland shook his head. “No, thank you, Uncle Gar. I don’t want to cause your family any trouble. I’m going to be leaving here tomorrow. I worry I might not see many sunrises if I don’t.”

“I see…” Coombs nodded in understanding and put a hand on Ryland’s shoulder. “Well, you’ll always have a home with us, lad. Anything I can do, just let me know.”

Then the two stood there for a time, looking out over the late afternoon fields and thinking their thoughts in silence. After a while, Coombs turned to leave, but Ryland stopped him.

“Actually, Uncle Gar” Ryland said, some energy coming back to his voice. “There is one thing…”

“Anything, lad.”

“Can I borrow your youngest daughter?”